


One Of The Herb

by GothMoth



Series: Phantom Phang Phucking Phreaking Phantastical Phabulous Phic Phight Phics 2.0 (The 2020 Edition) [13]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Gen, Ghost King Danny Fenton, Herbalism, Herbology, Identity Reveal, Jack And Maddie Aren't The Only People In The World Who Know A Thing Or Two About Ghosts, Misunderstandings, Mysticism, POV Outsider, Plants, Reveal, Worldbuilding, ghost plants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:21:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23666794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothMoth/pseuds/GothMoth
Summary: A strange new face with a strange new smell, but it might just turn out that all is well. Aka Amity gets a visitor who something of a herbalist with a spooky thumb.
Series: Phantom Phang Phucking Phreaking Phantastical Phabulous Phic Phight Phics 2.0 (The 2020 Edition) [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1685341
Comments: 17
Kudos: 334
Collections: A Phantom Rule, Phic Phight!





	One Of The Herb

**Author's Note:**

  * For [2fruity4u](https://archiveofourown.org/users/2fruity4u/gifts).



The suspected hunter was from out of town, clearly. Their outfit was _nothing_ like the hunters Amity was used to. No spandex, no weaponised jumpsuit, no crisp white suit. In fact, they looked like they had just stepped out of England in the midst of the plague. A thick black robe concealing the shape of their body, a hard rimmed hat, and most noticeably the bird mask. Some people may have been disturbed by the bolted on goggle-like eye lenses, but goggle covered eyes were commonplace here. The thing that actually weirded people out was that you could actually _see_ vapours and aromas seeping through the beak of the mask. The translucent colours swirled in blues, greens, purples, and even a pink that sparkled. As the misty colours trailed away from the newcomer they would mix together into something of a gray. Everyone was very cautious to breathe that in. Many were tempted to call someone, report this person for chemical warfare or terrorism. But that would mean more attention on their small town. More government interference. No one wanted that. So they avoided the newcomer like the plague. 

Left them to wander the streets and inspect things. They seemed to have a love for plants, often inspecting and downright caressing the ones throughout town with their gloved hands. The town’s folk could understand a little. The local flora, and anything people planted really, had a tendency to grow extremely well and easily. Flowers bloomed at twice their size. Grass was greener than anywhere else they had ever seen. No garden ever turned up rotten or useless crop. Sam Manson’s greenhouse was the star of the show though. Even if most didn’t care for the strange plants therein. Plants that ate bugs, or smelled of corpses, or had poisoned leaves, or grew parasitically on other plants. The fruits and vegetables she sold though, those were highly sought after. For those willing to brave her greenhouse that is. Sam Manson, however, downright refused the newcomer entry. Refused to sell to them. Rumour has it, they were after some of the rare strange plants rather than anything remotely normal. Some said she actually _slapped_ their hand away when they pointed to some red tulip or rose like plant with black leaves and a red aroma. 

Hearing about that only encouraged the town’s folk to stay away. However strange any of the members of the weirdo trio were, they were excellent judges of character and often knew when there was going to be trouble. If one of them stuck their noses up at someone, the town would absolutely follow suit. If one of them ran from someone, especially Danny, then so would everyone else. The strange person didn’t seem to mind being avoided, likely was used to such treatment based purely on their clothing. 

What caught everyone around off guard though was Danny’s reaction to the newcomer. He had sort of just stared after them from across the street for a while, before making a beeline for them. The strange behaviour from the boy encouraged everyone around to leave. Whatever was going on wasn’t worth getting involved in. They have enough issues with ghosts, and nothing good ever comes from any Fenton acting weird. 

* * *

Sihlenta tilts her head at the short skinny boy, who looks up her masks beak and straight at her eyes. It feels like he can actually see them and is examining their colour, though that should simply be impossible. They stand there staring at each other for a while, this was by far the strangest person in this unusual yet quaint town. 

He only becomes stranger and her eyes widen when the Lumanfactia herb in her beak spouts out of one of the slits in her mask, the vine of it moving towards the boy. Who holds up a finger and lets the vine curl around his finger, a flower blooming out on the end; pale blue vapour misting off. 

She’s never even _seen_ Lumanfactia behave or react like this. For it to flower so easily and grow so rapidly. Ghost plants often had a level of sentience far _far_ beyond other plants and even some animals but still. It was a plant that only shed its aroma where ghosts frequented and only bloomed amongst the dead. This made no sense, for the boy was clearly not dead. Or even dying for that matter. 

She tilts her head curiously at him. “It likes you”.

He hums as if not truly paying attention to her. Grabbing her beak, which she allows purely out of curiosity, and tilting her head up. Her mask is well-made enough for her to feel exactly where he traces his finger over on the underside of her beak. Over the spot where she keeps a small pouch of diluted Deaths Nip. Can he smell it? 

He drops his hand and speaks for the first time, “why?”. 

Now she’s certain he can smell. Which again makes little sense, he is not a dead. Even if this was a possessed person, the dead would have left the boy’s body at scenting the Nip. “Why what?”, she knows her beak muffles her voice enough to make her gender indistinguishable. She likes it that way. 

He hums again and pushes her beck sideways gently, she can feel him press his finger into one of the holes only for the Spleemi to spread out and coat his hand in white branching. He pulls his hand away and takes some of the Spleemi branching with, both of them staring at it as it spreads up and out; making a mass of white branch-like vines hang down all the way to the ground from his hand. 

Spleemi was use to detect the power of a dead, how? He hums once more, “what is it?”.

She blinks at him, “it’s... Spleemi. It’s a death plant that reacts to the aura of the dead”. 

He hums and nods, breaking off a bit of the branching and eating it. Part of her tells her she really should have stopped him, that was highly poisonous after all. The other part is simply curious and says that it’s not her problem; she didn’t make him do that. He smiles and it crinkles his eyes a little, making a hum that’s definitely pleased this time. He... _liked_ it. 

Tilting her head away from him, she looks around to see if anyone else was noticing this strange behaviour. Only to realise the street is deserted and windows covered. Looking back to the boy, “what are you?”. Could he be a new kind of dead? Something unique to this strange town? It would make sense. She knew this place had far more rumours of ‘ghost’ and ‘spirits’ and ‘apparitions’ than anywhere else. However hard to find those rumours it was. That’s why she came here of course. The increase in the Hemti’s pink aroma made it clear the rumours were quite true. This place was bathed in the aroma of the dead. 

He breaks off more branching and chews it with a small smile, “I have friends who would like this”, then looking up to her, she eyeballs the still growing mass of Spleemi as he talks though. If he was somehow a dead, he was ridiculously powerful. “Somehow, I think you know already”, he shrugs slightly, “usually I’d care”. 

She blinks and smiles slightly. He was a dead. Somehow. “Is here your haunt?”.

She can see the sudden sharpness to his eyes confirming that this place is his haunt before he even speaks, “ _why_?”. It’s a threat, she’d know that from a mile away. But it’s okay. He seems of the friendly type. Whatever strange new kind of dead he is.

“Good. I’m glad”, she unclasps the back of her mask and grabs the beak to lift it up, leaving in to rest on her forehead. He tilts his head at her. She smiles at him, pale green lips pulling a little tight, “here might be safe for me then. Why you’re unbothered would be the Hearths Coal’s doing. It’s seeds are something of a calming remedy”. 

He hums before laughing a little, “useful”. She knows there’s a meaning there she’s not getting but she feels okay, at peace, for once in a long time. This dead can keep his hidden meanings. Taking a slight chance, she leans forward and sniffs at his aroma, he lets her with a curious raised eyebrow. She looks around and sniffs at the air, his aroma wasn’t the only dead’s, not by a long shot. But it was the most prominent, “you’re not the only dead here”.

He shrugs and stares up at her beak, “we get lots of visitors. They don’t stay long”. Again the threat is clear but she doesn’t believe it is entirely aimed at her. This was a dead who didn’t take to sharing his haunt apparently. Could that be why the townsfolk ignored her much more here than elsewhere? She smiles regardless and decides to offer something of a show of trust or friendship. If she was to stay here, she would need his tolerance of her. Taking off the mask and offering it to him. For him to look inside. 

He takes it with the tilt of a head and a raised eyebrow, clearly both curious and mistrustful. She likely wouldn’t have gotten any kind of honesty or trust out of him if it weren’t for the Hearths Coal’s seeds. He rests the mask on top of the Spleemi branches and pokes the herbs inside with the other hand. She’s not surprised this time to see Lumanfactai sprouts shoot out and wrap over his wrist and arm, blooming readily. Watching as the pale green aroma of Felia deepens to a thick forest green, the mist waving around and looking through it revealing the boy’s real form. She can’t help her eyes widen over the white hair and the glow of green eyes his tilted down head nearly covers with hair. 

Watching how the points of his ears stick out of his hair as he looks back to her, “none of this seems harmful. Why?”, tilting his head, “are you not a hunter?”.

She shakes her head immediately, she could understand the perception that she was though. “No. No I am not. Though I am something of a mystic. The same as the rest in my family heritage”, gesturing to her pale green lips and her eyes, which have steaks of green breaking up the purple, “same as my _condition_ ”. 

He hums and smiles slightly, staring at the dark green mist before moving his hand around it and tilting his head at likely being able to see his true form. She wonders if he’s ever seen how he _really_ looks before or if he’s some kind of shape-shifting dead. Humming again, “well then”. She would jerk if she wasn’t used to usual things happening suddenly, from him digging in and finding the Felia, with it promptly bursting into blue flames. Alright, so either he didn’t like what he sees or he doesn’t like others seeing the real him. 

“You’re not unpleasant looking, if that’s your worry”. 

He looks back to her and tilts his head, she doesn’t miss how he snatches out the Nip and Hearths Coal’s seeds before handing her mask back over. He speaks while shoving the two herbs into his pocket. While she untangles some of the Spleemi branching from her mask. “I know how I look. Others aren’t to know that’s me. Again, I’d be bothered you do. I don’t know you. And condition? You do have some ghostly traits”.

So it would seem he calls himself a ghost or at least he’s most familiar with ghosts than other dead’s. She’s not entirely sure how to feel about that. Ghosts were the more dangerous of the dead. His real self did look a lot like a ghost, minus the pale yet tanned skin. Not to mention the currently human appearance that seems entirely unique to him. Not a face he stole or based off of someone else in town. “Good, it’s not good to dislike our own appearances. Though yes, I imagine a town known for being plagued by the dead wouldn’t take too well to one just walking around. As for my condition”, lifting her mask up slightly in her hand, drawing his attention to it, “‘tis the reason for this and most of the herbs. It is something like a deficiency. Like a diabetic needs sugars, those with Letomanes need to absorb the aura of death or the dead”, pointing to the beak, “death herbs help, but not by much”.

He tilts his head again and hums, before giving a little nod, “I have other reasons to not want my two forms connected. So you’re here to _feed_ off the ghosts?”. Again the threat is very obvious. She’s not sure that’s just self-protection. Is he a protective type of dead? Some could be very against anyone or thing being hurt in their haunts. 

“I won’t press. I’ll admit, I am trying to earn your favour. Stay around the dead is really the only way for me to truly be healthy and live a full life”, sighing a little, “feeding would be a way to put it. More like absorbing your auras and aromas, like sunlight. It’s not harmful to anyone, alive or dead”. They stare at each other again for a while. Clearly he's judging her truthfulness, but it’s not like lying would do her any good. She nods readily when he asks, “just you?”. Touching the bell hanging around her neck, inscribed with her family crest, “I’m the last of my family left, and I’ve never met another with the condition”.

He frowns a little, “sorry”, gesturing to the side, “want to walk? It’ll explain somethings I think”. 

She nods readily, putting her mask back to rest on her forehead. She'd do better to just breathe in his aroma/aura and absorb it through her skin. It’s been a while since she hasn’t felt her aches. “No need for apologies. Death is life’s end result, it merely comes sooner for some over others”.

He snorts, the Hearths Coal’s seeds were probably wearing off a bit, “don't I know it”. So he died as young as he looked. It was always a sad thing when the young passed, though he likely wouldn’t appreciate her sympathies or mentioning his death. The dead seldom tolerate that. 

Speaking up again as they start walking, she believes they’re heading toward the mall, “I would talk of how it can be something of a rest for weary feet, but that would be a bit rude of me. And I’ll admit, you confuse me. I haven’t met your kind before. You seem similar to ghosts but yet different”. 

He hums before chuckling, she has a feeling he laughs a lot. “My death is the busiest I’ve ever been in my life”. Alright, so he is not bothered by mentions of his death or dying. “And of course you haven’t. There’s only three of us”. She blinks at that, his kind were that new or that rare? That explained an awful lot. She doesn’t interrupt him as he continues, “before you ask. The first was _created_ twenty or so years ago”. She doesn’t miss the emphasis on ‘created’, which is strange. She’s never met a dead who referred to themselves as ‘created’, like it was something unnatural. 

She asks, “‘created’?”, while ignoring people staring at her face. No one has seen it yet, after all, and her face made it pretty obvious she was a she. Plus she didn’t exactly look normal. The odd green-tinted lips, her strange purple/green eyes, the heavy black under her eyes that could easily be mistaken for eyeliner, and her natural fox orange hair. Though something tells her people in this town won’t notice that much. Many of them seem to lack pupils. Purple eyes and orange hair wasn't even uncommon. The people here were a strange mash-up of dirt poor to extremely wealthy and the fashion style was less uniformed than even very large cities. Her mask is quite possibly the only thing that throws people off here. 

He hums, “I’m not something that really occurs naturally”, and nudges her, gesturing loosely to one of the TVs playing news as they enter the mall. She quirks an eyebrow at him but he only smirks. She understands why after a few seconds, seeing him in his real form shooting his energy at a metal ghost. Looking from the TV to a few of the people watching. Reading their lips as they talk about how ‘awesome Phantom is’ and how ‘he’s gotten really good at avoiding collateral damages now’. Looking back to the boy, Phantom? that was an incredibly ironic name for a dead, and raising both eyebrows. 

He chuckles, it rumbles a little. Speaking after some brutish looking teen walked by and called him a freaky loser. “They don’t know the human boy is the ghost one”, turning to look up more directly at her, “I’m Danny by the way. You?”. 

“It’s Sihlenta”. Maybe the town just called his real form ‘Phantom’, likely associating the ‘Danny’ name with the human facade. 

Apparently that was literally the only reason for coming here as they head back out to wander the streets. “Well I guess it’s nice to meet you, Sihlenta. And, I guess, welcome to Amity. The most haunted town in the world”, shrugging, “you’ve been kinda lucky though. The portals been closed all week”.

She was going to take the ‘most haunted town’, like she hasn’t heard that before, with a grain of salt; but ‘portal’? “‘Portal’?”.

He points toward a sign in the distance -that FentonWorks one she had been rather avoiding. She had heard of the Fenton’s- and smirks, “this town has a direct line to the Ghost Realm. Welcome to why there are so many ghosts”. 

She takes some pride in barely wavering in her stride at that. By portal he meant there was actually a doorway through the veil here. A constant one. She’d ask how this place wasn’t overrun and destroyed but the answer was walking next to her. Either he was definitely a protective kind of dead or he was the kind that guarded the doorways between life and death. She won’t ask though. “That is... quite horrifying, I must say”. 

He snorts, “most say that”, looking up at her beak again, “those... herbs. Do you grow them? Those seeds seem pretty useful and can’t say I don’t like the nip”.

Oh so he actually knew of Deaths Nip? Likely not the others though. “Yes, though be warned, they are fairly temperamental. Spleemi only grows near graves. Lumanfactia will only bloom and reproduce near the dead, even then it usually only blooms once every three years. Deaths Nip won’t grow anywhere near the dead, you’re out of luck there. Felia is the one that shows your form so I imagine you’d rather not have that around. There’s a few others in here”, pointing up at her mask. 

He tilts his head, “I know the Nip as Ghost Nip. A friend grows some and pranks me with it sometimes”, smirking a little, “and don’t worry. Sam can grow anything. Though I do have to ask, why did you want the Blood Blossoms?”. Again, there’s a slight threat there but he’s clearly more curious than anything. She’s more than a little curious how Sam could grow Death Nip inside a dead’s haunt; that really shouldn’t work. But that might be a little personal to ask currently. 

It was more important to wave any of his concerns over her interests in the any-ghost plant. “I pack around the Nip to attract the dead, and the Blossoms to ward off the ones that prove dangerous. Considering this town’s reputation, coming here without any was something of a risk to begin with”. Again he stares at her. She’s starting to think he can literally tell if someone’s lying to him. Eventually he nods and they continue walking to the house. 

“I’m going to take a guess and say you haven’t met Jack and Maddie Fenton yet? Considering you didn’t seem to know ghosts are what’s common around here”.

She shakes her head. With what she had heard of them they sounded rather insane. “I’ll admit to avoiding them. The jumpsuits make that easy”, looking down at herself with a slight smile, “unusual clothing has a tendency to be disconcerting”. 

He laughs, “that’s hunters for you”. She raises her eyebrows at that, for a dead to intentionally hang around hunters was both strange and very bold. Though she goes a bit wide-eyed when they step in and he says, “mom! Dad! I’m home! Brought a new friend!”. She doesn’t even know what to think of that. 

Maddie sticks her head down from upstairs and smiles at him, “that’s alright sweetie. Dinners in the fridge, next to the ecto-weines. Don’t worry, they’re wrapped up tight so they won’t bite you”. A male voice booms from upstairs, “and if they do! Bite ‘em back!”. 

He chuckles, “sure thing dad!”. He waves to Maddie as she goes back to what’s probably the master bedroom. He turns to her, “they sometimes bring dead things to life. Usually food and usually hotdogs”, and waves over his shoulder for her to follow him downstairs. 

She’s still trying to process that not only is he calling _hunters_ ‘mom and dad’ but they also clearly see him as their son. And she knew from the town’s folks gossip that there were two Fenton kids. Jazz and Danny. Was Danny Fenton _this_ Danny? “Do they know that you’re...?”. 

He shakes his head instantly, “nope. Like to keep it that way”, he shrugs, “it would complicate things and they’d feel bad for hunting me”. There was a lot to unpack in that statement. He was pretending to still be one of the living. And doing that around hunters, hunters who hunted him is his real form. Considering even she couldn’t really tell he was a dead, however he made himself look human was very effective and he must not act too different from his living behaviours. Enough for no one to notice he died. But this also meant he didn’t just look like a teen, it means that if he were living he still would be one. Which means that he was a _very_ young dead, no more than a few years at best. To be so strong as to make the Spleemi branch so much, that hardly seemed possible. 

Telling him, “you are very peculiar”, as they get to the bottom of the steps. Before looking around. It was a lab, clearly. Easily noticing all the samples of ghost energy. So they were the scientist kind of hunters then? Makes sense with the jumpsuits. Far too artificial for her tastes. Explained Danny/Phantom calling the doorway a ‘portal’ though. He likely viewed the dead on a scientific level, having been taught by the two hunters. That might even be why he can trick them and her into thinking he’s living. 

He chuckles and goes about cleaning a few things, responding as he shakes his head at a sentient clump of ghost energy in a jar, “oh I know. But that goes back to why you haven’t met one like me before”, letting the small creature out and It moving to happily run between his fingers. While he tilts his head at her, “is being around large amounts of ectoplasm fine for you?”.

Oh yes he definitely viewed the dead more scientifically, to be calling Deaths energy ‘ectoplasm’. “It won’t bother me. If anything it would beneficial, it’s been a while since I’ve been around any real source of death aura”. She wasn’t expecting him to simply open the large vault-like doors on the far wall to _a doorway through the veil._ A doorway wasn’t just active here, it could be opened and closed _with the press of a button._

Stepping forward wide-eyed only to pause, seeing pure white flowers spiral to bloom open through the seams. Bellademonia blossoms. Grave Seers. What? Watching their purple aroma swirl almost lovingly over the doorway. This doorway... a dead died here. 

He squints at her while the clump of ghost energy floats through the doorway, “ _what_ are those flowers doing?”. The threat that time carries some serious meaning. This, _he_ died here. 

She gives him a somewhat sad look, “Bellademonia, they bloom were a dead lost their life. Their presence is supposed to be comforting and their visible aroma tends to dissuade trespassers”. 

His expression softens and he tilts his head at the small bell-shaped flowers, “ah. That’s okay then. They do smell nice. Before you ask, yeah I died here. The portal opened with me caught in between. The other technically natural one like me died the same way”.

She takes a chance and asks, “and the third?”.

He shrugs, “she was cloned from me”.

She blinks, she hadn’t been aware cloning a dead was possible. The advancements of science will never cease to be strange. “Why would someone do such a thing”.

He huffs grumbly, “because some people are crazed up frootloops”, then moving to wave his fingers through the swirling green death energy of the doorway. He must be less bothered than most over his grave being bothered. It was likely bothered quite frequently. As if to prove that point a blue ghost sticks their head through and he glares at them, “don’t even think about it Boxy”. 

“But I must spread my fearsomeness, your highness-”, ‘Boxy’ cuts themselves off and makes a little eep before pulling their head back through the doorway. 

The boy immediately goes and closes the doorway after that. Shaking his head and looking to her, “Boxy shows every day pretty much or multiple times in a day. Harmless but annoying”. She’s not sure she would call any ghost dead ‘harmless’. 

“‘Highness’?”.

He grins a bit meanly, “oh, guess you’re not up to date on the latest ghost gossip. I’ve been The High Ghost King for a few months now”.

That would... that explains _a lot._ Why the Spleemi branches so greatly. Why the Lumanfactia bloomed so much. Why the Bellademonia‘s aroma was so greatly attracted to his grave. And why the Hemti was producing so much of its pink aroma. If she had some Melonabonia she would have known already exactly _what_ and in a sense _who_ this dead was. He was a Death Lord. She was standing in the same room as a Death Lord. One at best a few years dead and likely still classified as a child dead. “You’re... one of the Death Lords”.

He, the ghost Death Lord, tilts his head, “can’t say I’ve heard that term before. And ‘one of’?”.

She nods, she almost can’t believe she’s explaining things to a Death Lord. She knows the myths of them being all-knowing, all-seeing, ever-present beings was dramatics but still. “Yes. One of. You’re the... Death Lord of ghosts, or High Ghost King as you know it. There is a Death Lord for each kind of dead”, shaking her head slightly and changing the topic slightly. This was knowledge she was going to have to work through, “so you and the ghosts consider you a ghost? Even though you are different”.

He looks a little wide-eyed, “there are _other kinds?_ ”. He mouths ‘wow’ before continuing, “and yeah. Every Halfa, that’s what I’m called, is considered a ghost. I really doubt non-ghost halfas are possible. Do the other kinds -still can’t believe there’s others- have dna?”.

She decides sitting down would be a good idea. ‘Halfa’ was certainly something she hasn’t heard of before, “the other kinds are weaker than ghosts, less dangerous and less predatory. They won’t go near a ghosts haunt. Especially not a strong ones. And certainly not a ghost Death Lords. Are there... other words for Halfa? Do you know why you’re all considered ghosts?”, shaking her head, “and no, maintaining DNA is unique to ghosts”. 

He nods and hums, “that makes sense then. My folks are scientists, they wouldn’t be interested in anything without DNA, all the ectoplasm they work with has that”, looking to her, “if you want to sit, my room’s better”, and points up the stairs. She’d follow even if he hadn’t offered out of kindness. Surely he must have a limit for his tolerance of others around his grave. Though maybe not much bothered one like him. 

He holds off on explaining till getting his door shut, she’s a little preoccupied by pink aroma practically pluming out of her beak and Lumanfactia winding vines out of the sides slightly. He chuckles and moves his finger close, letting its vines wrap around his finger and the flowers popping open. She knows it’s because his room is absolutely saturated in his aura. “Somehow, I’m not surprised. Anyway-”, he sits down on his bed. While she moves to sit in one of the chairs, cloak bunching up a fair bit as she crosses her legs. He continues after waiting for her to get comfortable, at least he was very much living friendly. “The only other words for ‘halfa’ I’ve heard, are things like half-creature and half-formed. We don’t really have a specific species name”, shrugging, “as for why we’re all ghosts, it makes sense if you know what halfa means”. He stops, likely to let her think. She had discovered a lot after all. A dead who could seem entirely human and still existed almost as if he never died. A town that seemed to be functionally a ghost/human coexistence spot. An entirely new kind of dead that was for some reason considered to belong to ghosts only. A _permanent_ easy access doorway between the veil that was also a grave. _A Death Lord._ It was a lot to take in really, even with her years of study, personal experience, and mystic heritage. She had come seeking a potential dead’s haunt, she got that and had the luck of him being friendly. The rest she could make peace with. Smiling at him softly, “and what is a halfa then?”.

He smirks a little, “it’s in the name really. A halfa is someone who’s only half dead. Uh, half ghosts specifically I guess. A mix of living and dead DNA. An in-between. Dead yet still alive. I’m not a shape-shifter or anything. This-”, he gestures to his body, “-is just my living form. What I look like when I’m in the state of being ‘alive’. When my living DNA is dominant. I can switch which ones on top on command”. And to prove this a strange light forms around his waist and suddenly he looks as she saw through the Felia aroma, except she’s now able to see all of him. 

She will humbly admit to gaping a fair bit, this was even in the eyes of mystics, factually and spiritually impossible. Life and death didn’t merge, they coexisted and mingled. They made trade-offs and flirted. Never actually joining. “You are dead... yet alive”. 

He nods, “and alive yet dead. Technically impossible. A paradox. Not much makes sense with halfas. It’s better not to think about it. I simply exist. Ghosts don’t really give a shit I’m only half-ghost”.

“That... explains why you look like a proper ghost but not quite. The skin colour”. 

“The other ‘natural’ halfa looks more ghostly”, he gets up and floats through his wall, coming back with a pink binder and holds it out to her. “My sister, though I wish she wouldn’t, keeps something of a scrapbook”. He flips the book open for her somewhere in the middle. Looking at the photos she realises that he’s actually physically changed, in ways the dead just don’t do. In these older photos he looked like a human just glowing, white-haired and green-eyed; and his skin was a dark tan, rather than the pale tan it was now. Comparing the new photos to the old ones showed his skin also had a slight blue tint now. If she were to guess, his skin would be a light soft blue in a year. He’d look like a true ghost. Raising an eyebrow slightly as she looks back to him and looks him over. Come to think of it, he also didn’t look like a Death Lord. Would that be a gradual change as well? He was very peculiar indeed. 

Handing the scrapbook back for him to return. Asking as he comes back through the wall and, for a reason she’s not privy to, changes back to his living form. “You change slowly rather than instantly. You hardly looked like a ghost before, just as you hardly look like a Death Lord now”.

He chuckles and rubs his neck, “oh I hide my kings wear. Rather not freakout the town”. She blinks as jet black cape with a collar of pure white flames, clasped around his shoulders by large green skulls and a thick shadowy chain, suddenly appears. Followed by a floating flaming green crown with a misting green aura. It looks very strange on a living human body and glows fiercely. A Death Lord indeed. She blinks a few times. 

The Lumanfactia sprout vines out at him rather wildly, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Though he does laugh a bit awkwardly at the Spleemi branches he had stuffed in his pocket, branching out of said pocket wildly. He breaks a piece off and eats it anyway, humming pleasantly. “I’ll have to be careful around you plants, or you’ll give me away”. She chuckles even if she’s still taking in what exactly she’s in the presence of. He looks to her and smiles, “I guess I should expect a mystic to not be bothered by this much. Even if I’m weird. Oh and yes, I change slowly. Like growing. Makes some sense, seeing as I’m a child ghost and all. Eventually I’ll be all grown up, and both my forms will stop changing. My slow-changing confuses hunters a ton. It’s great”.

She chuckles much more genuinely that time, “figures you’re something of a trickster”. She’s a little glad he sends away or hinds the cape and crown though. It was a bit hard to look at and made her herbs react so strongly. Glancing out the window to the setting sun, She should get back to the motel, have a herbal bath, and probably meditate. Getting up with a stretch, “you’re not bothered by the late time, I’d imagine”.

He shakes his head but gets up anyway, “hardly. I’m usually up till one or two am. I’m guessing I’ve put you through the mental and informational ringer enough for one day?”.

She nods while he moves to dig out the Heart Coal seeds and Death Nip from his pocket. Sticking the seeds into a dresser drawer but bringing the Nip to his nose and sniffing very pleased at it, “ah Ghost Nip is a damn blessing”, looking to her and holding up the bag a little, “though how did you make it not totally, y’ know, overwhelming? Friends stuff makes me lose my mind”.

Yeah, fully potent Death Nip would do that. “It’s been diluted with mint and saltwater. Soak the leaves for three days in saltwater, dry for one. Then mix two parts Nip, one part mint, and grind it up. Also stays fresher long that way too”, pausing as she realises this is probably a good time to ask, while he just hums. “Question. How does your friend, Sam, grow Death Nip? Doing that inside a haunt shouldn’t be viable”.

He tilts his head and hums again before nodding, “ah right, she didn’t actually let you in”, nodding again, “that’s why the Blood Blossoms are near the door. Anyone interested in them is deemed not ghost friendly and banned”.

She nods, it made sense. If Sam was friends with a dead/partial dead, she logically wouldn’t want hunters to have any death plants she might have; or the even know they’re there. 

He continues while pushing the Death Nip away from himself and into the drawer as well, “same reason all plants grow well here. There’s tons of plants in her greenhouse that can’t grow here technically. Hence it’s popularity”, giving her a bit of a smirk, “she’s favoured and was pretty well adopted by UnderGrowth, ghost Lord of Botony and all plants”.

She blinks at him, that did explain that. She could likely grow anything with easy, still need to know how of course. He points to her masks beak, which is still pluming pink aroma, “she’s always looking for new ghost plants”. She gives him a wily grin, “oh I’m sure we could arrange a trade of sorts. I’m short on a few things”, holding up a hand, “I promise to leave the Blood Blossom be though”. It was absolutely in her favour and best interest to not have that on her now. He wouldn’t take that well, no dead would, but he was a Death Lord; it was different. 

He nods as they head out of his room and the house, him standing in the house doorway, “you and her would get along. Nana Ida is the only adult she doesn’t hate currently, could do with a change”. 

She nods, it would be nice to have friends regardless of how peculiar they may be. She’d be content to hang around the flora blessed goth. She has one thing she needs to ask him though, “I think we just might. And you, are you alright with me hanging around from time to time? For my Letomanes?”.

He nods readily, which she expected at this point, he was a very kind being. “Sure thing, we can actually hang out too if that’s cool. You seem nice, little on the wise side but definitely not as much as ClockWork”.

She releases a breath she had been holding for many years. Merely a week ago she was barely a month from Deaths gate, now she might just make another twenty years. Maybe even more. It would be nice to have outlived her Oma. “Bless you, that truly means a lot to me”.

He nods and smiles, obviously aware enough to not say something like ‘no problem’ or ‘you're welcome’, “it’s who I am. Just stay out of my ghost fights. I’m known as the Suffered King for a good reason, I get the crap kicked outta me a lot”. 

“You’re... a Death Lord”. He just shrugs so she adds, “you know. Hearths Coal, the nectar from its fruits can be made into a healing balm. I can’t claim to know how it would work on a halfa, but all the same. Just boil it with a whole lemon peel, pour it once cooled into a container with two tablespoons of beeswax and as much Epsom salt as you prefer and let it set till about as thick as conditioner”.

He beams, “I’ll definitely do that. Literally broke my arm last week”.

She blinks at him, “it’s... not that strong of a healing balm”, she’s not going to ask if he saw a doctor. That was likely both unnecessary and unsafe for him to do. Both because his physiology has to be incredibly unique and, based on his definitely not currently broken arm, he healed far _far_ beyond living capabilities. He just shrugs, which she had rather expected, before waving goodbye as she turns to head down the sidewalk. 

* * *

The little town of Amity Park had seen some changes in the last little while. Not only had the rather strange and aloof Sam Manson made something of a friend out of the strange suspected hunter. Who turned out to not be a hunter at all, though what she was was something new to them; even if it only made sense in a way. As it would seem the lady in the bird mask was something of a herbalist. A wise woman, or mystic as she preferred to be called. Not only that but she had a touch for Death Plants as she called them. But ask any townsfolk and they would say ‘that’s a ghost plant’, largely because so many of the kinds she worked with glowed or were reported to react to ghosts. One thing was universal about these Death Plants though, every single one gave off an aroma, sometimes always, sometimes only with proper conditions. The fact that said conditions seemingly always involved ghosts was more than a little telling. 

There was even one interesting story of Phantom flying by only for a flowering vine plant to grab at him. He swatted at it and told it off like it was a clingy cat. 

There was also the fact that Phantom himself was spotted with her herbs and creations; once having to release a public statement that ‘no, the branching plant is not safe for you to eat. Please don’t make that a challenge. Seriously’ because people saw him eating the stuff. Sihlenta had given quite a few people some surprisingly harsh words during that time. 

The Fenton children were often seen with a plant or two as well. Jazz ever studying this or that was glad for the new subject, having gotten bored on her summer break from university. Danny, however, never seemed to actually intentionally acquire the Death Plants. They were just suddenly there or Sihlenta simply _gave_ them to him. Which was quite strange. Since everyone had become fairly well aware of the fact that the women was something of a deal maker. Quick to trade for things, but not so much to pay for them; and definitely wasn’t one to give things away, not so much as a single leaf or petal or seed. In Amity that worked out just fine, their town was strange to the core. Nothing all that weird about someone swapping bath oil to ease sore feet in exchange for apples and a few of the good oranges. 

Why this behaviour didn’t apply to Danny was a mystery, like how most things about the boy was a mystery. Sometimes she seemed almost cautiously reserved toward him, other times like a proud parent, and others like someone who revered him like a deity. Decidedly strange. But one thing was for sure, Sihlenta was friends with him, with the weirdo trio as a whole actually. So thus she rather quickly became another staple of the town. Most of the adults would like to say she became the trio’s responsible wise godmother, that would be wrong though. Just like Ida Manson, Sihlenta was wily and knew way more than someone reasonably should. The way she talked of ghosts was different than anything they’d ever heard and there was a lot of ethics attached to it; and a lot of respect. She even showed a fondness for Phantom often only shown by the town’s teens but with the mature grace that came with age and wisdom. 

It was odd, but it was enough to make the town really accept her in. Which is how they noticed she was nearly as mysterious as Danny was. The fact that they would sometimes ‘hangout’ purely by just existing near each other but never acknowledging each other didn’t help. No one really knew the reason for the bird mask, or why she often wore it on her forehead now; sometimes letting Danny fiddle with it. Quite a few were sure she was teaching all of the trio her way with the Death Plants. Some people might have been disturbed by how the Death Plants seemed to really like the kid but ghost plants were really much more sentient and the Fenton’s were well known to attract ghost things in general. Allowing any of them near Hot Dogs was functionally banned in town. So it wasn’t too strange. 

One other thing the town learned quickly though. Is you don’t mess with the bird lady, she was protected. Sam’s plants could be know to be attack dogs and there was never any way to know if Sihlenta had some on her within the folds of her cloak. And don’t let it fool you, her red hair was the red of a fox. The trickster Prince of the forest. And her hands worked with the plants of the dead. 

If the town was in the know, they’d also know she had the favour in a way of the Suffered King of the dead. 

**End.**

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt Creator: 2fruity4u  
> Prompt: Danny discovers that blood blossoms are not the only ghost plant, in fact there are a whole bunch of ghost plants out there, and not all of them are bad!


End file.
